It started with a story

A simple story.

Not much more than a few simple lines

 

I waited, analyzed, configured, changed.

Novel became poem

Emphasizing with words and lines and rhythm

What straight lines couldn't.

 

Simple became powerful.

Weak became strong.

Unnoticed became unbearably brilliant.

 

I burned that first poem.

 

But couldn't resist.

Another three-liner,

Another powerful writing.

 

I kept it.

 

I've been writing ever since,

Slowly at first, simple things.

Sappy love, a flower in a garden.

 

Then a lonely kid in a crowd,

That no one noticed.

 

The words kept coming,

Fueled by endless energy that comes from no where.

Hatred, love, loss, confusion, worry, insanity-

Self-harm.

 

The words became my only escape,

Save for the knife,

From the pain and loneliness inside me.

Words were my only safe haven.

 

Four years past it now,

Words are my life, my passion.

Seven years since that first two-liner

And I can't imagine giving it up.

 

Poetry has become art to me.

I only wish I could give it the justice

It gives me.